The narrativist turn in humanities and social sciences

Common grounds for a narrative method

The diversity of the approaches and uses of the concept of narrative, of which we have given only some representative examples, does not speak only of its interdisciplinary relevance, it also testifies to its inherent power of ‘propagation’. ‘[A] concept is adequate to the extent that it produces the effective organization of the phenomena rather then offering a mere projection of the ideas and presuppositions of its advocates’ (31), claims Bal. At the same time, through the processes of propagation, it gets to be continuously changed, and reevaluated. Still, the question remains if there is a common core behind the concept to be recognized and consciously re-addressed within various frameworks of its use. The other side of the same question is if continuous reassessment of this common core within new frameworks can also be seen as a way of protecting the concept and both its theoretical and methodological potentials against processes of diffusion.⁴ We will try to look for such a core, revisiting some basic theoretical assumptions concerning narratives with the aim of pointing to some of the basic methodological implications that the use of the concept carries within itself.

‘”Narrative” is what is left when belief in possibility of knowledge is eroded”, says Rial, pointing to the dominant constructivist approach in a number of disciplines nowadays. (In Encyclopedia, 344). In summing up possible definitions of term, Ryal distinguishes between descriptive and more normative approaches to inquiry into the nature of narrative. The first line of inquiry, ‘aiming at description, asks: what does narrative do for human beings, the second, aiming at definition, tries to capture the distinctive features of narrative’ (ibid. 345). Within descriptive approaches, narrative is seen as a cognitive instrument, that is, ‘a fundamental way of organizing human experience and tool for constructing reality’; as ‘a particular mode of thinking’, as ‘a vehicle of dominant ideologies and an instrument of power’, as ‘a repository of practical knowledge’ (ibid. 345). As Ryal also points out in her text, there is a certain level of closeness between various descriptive views on narrative, many of them interested in the role narratives have in constituting and transmitting some form of knowledge. There is more disagreement when it comes to definitional approaches, with their intention of isolating the core distinguishing features of the concept. The range of possible positions may be summarized by two opposing views on the nature of narration: one which assumes the existence of anthropomorphic voice as pre-condition of a narrative (Genette, Prince, Rimmon-Kenan), and another which argues for the existence of narratives which are non-narrated (Chatman), or even non-verbal, as in the case of film narration (David Brodwell).

The definition of narrative given by Gerald Prince makes central several categories and related concepts that can also be found in most of the other well known definitions. In his view, narrative is ‘[t]he representation (as product and process), object and act, structure and structuration of one of more real or fictive events communicated by one, two, or several (more or less overt) narrators to one, two, or several (more or less overt) narrates.’ (Prince 2003, 58). Since this is a definition from Prince’s Dictionary of Narratology, emphasized terms should serve as an indication as to how the reader should pursue with further readings on the issue. At the same time, they can be taken here as an indication of the initial narrative frame for any narrative text, which includes at least three instances: narrator(s) – event(s) – narrate(s). Keeping basically the same approach, Paul Cobley’s definition additionally puts an emphasis on two other strongly theorized elements that constitute a narrative. For him, narrative is ‘[a] movement from a start point to an end point, with digression, which involves the showing or telling of story events. Narrative is a re-presentation of events, and chiefly, re-presents space and time’ (Cobley, 237).

In all of these cases – and we have mentioned just a few definitions of the term – the distinction made between narrative and story points to some important assumptions of narrative theory that have to be taken into account in narrative analysis. The first one is the constructedness of the narrative discourse, which always implies certain, even minimal, levels of interpretation of the story to be told. As we have seen, narrative discourse is as a rule ascribed to some narrative agent, whose particular characteristics necessarily affect the way a concrete story would be told. This goes not only for the first person narrators, where individualization of narrative agent influences the narration in the most obvious and very immediate way, but also for various forms of narration in the third person, where ‘reliability’ has been questioned within rather different theoretical frameworks. For example, Bakhtin’s concept of heteroglosia strongly undermines the reliability of narrative voices in literary texts (Bakhtin 1981). Some other theorists were more concerned with the positioning of a narrative voice in relation to the narrated events, which lead to a distinction between ‘homodiegetic’ and ‘heterodiegetic’ narrators (Génette, Rimmon-Kenan). There are also theorists like Mieke Bal who point to the strong manipulative effects of focalisation, which turns seemingly objective, reliable narration into an overly biased one. (Bal 2000, 153) Various narratological categories concerning the structure of narrative text and levels and voices of narration can be of immense help in understanding how the text operates, and how we can go behind its surface to understand hidden meanings. Variety of approaches and differences in use of concrete terms between different authors prevents us from reviewing them here, but a reader can visit any of the more comprehensive volumes on narrative theory to get a general idea (Génette, Chatman, Rimmon-Kennan, Bal, Lothe, Abbot).

What we are more interested in at this point is the implied interpretative aspect of any narrative, which has to be taken into account when the concept is being used. In his analysis of simple oral narratives, William Labov claims that every narrative performs two functions:

“Narrative will be considered as one verbal technique for recapitulating experience – in particular, a technique of constructing narrative units that match the temporal sequence of that experience. Furthermore, we find that narrative that serves this function alone is abnormal: it may be considered empty or pointless narrative. Normally, narrative serves as additional function of personal interest, determined by a stimulus in the social context in which the narrative occurs. We therefore distinguish two functions of narrative: a) referential and b) evaluative.’ (Labov, 2)

It is the evaluative function of narrative which calls for methodological cautiousness, and eventually brings us back to revisit some of more traditional narratological concepts like narrative domain and narrative situation, together with related concepts like levels of narration, typology of narrative voices, etc. (for further reading see Prince 2000, and Routledge Encyclopedia).

On this particular occasion, we would like to give more space to two of these categories, which provide a useful interpretative framework for analyzing our examples here. One such category is the concept of closure; the other, the question of disnarrated events.

As emphasized by Abbott, closure should not be equated with the actual end of a narrative, although it often occurs towards the ending. “The term closure has to do with a broad range of expectation and uncertainties that arise during the course of a narrative and that part of us, at least, hopes to resolve, or close. Closure is therefore best understood as something we look for in narrative, a desire that authors understand and often expand considerable art to satisfy or to frustrate.” (Abbott, 53) In that sense, closure contributes to an interpretation of narrated events on the part of both the narrator and the reader.

It is worth noting here that Noël Carroll (2001) similarly theorizes narrative connection, and its relevance for narrative comprehension. Firstly, he claims that ‘a narrative connection obtains when 1) the discourse represents at least two events and/or states of affairs 2) in a globally forward-looking manner 3) concerning the career of at least one unified subject 4) where the temporal relations between the event and/or states of affairs are perspicuously ordered, and 5) where the earlier events in the sequence are at least causally necessary conditions for the causation of later events and/or states of affairs (or are contributions thereto).’ (Carroll, 32) On the basis of narrative connections, readers form their narrative anticipations and expectations. ‘Following a narrative involved understanding what is going on in the narrative. This is a matter of assimilating what is going on into a structure – of integrating earlier and later events into a structure. That structure is comprised of possibilities opened by earlier events in the discourse that function at least as causally necessary conditions. (…) Stated negatively, following a narrative is a matter of not being confused when later events arrive in a narrative. Stated positively, following a narrative involves a sense of the direction of the narrative as it unfolds, and a sense of intelligibility or fitness when earlier events are conjoined with later events in the narrative.’ (Carroll, 39) In other words, narrative connections guide a reader through a narrative, enabling him/her to translate it into an intelligible, meaningful text. Integration of events into “a structure” inevitably gives it a certain frame, and leads the reader towards a range of possible closures, if not towards one which is clearly recognizable.

Explaining the relevance of narrative connections for the intelligibility of narratives, Carroll uses the same example that Hayden White uses in his essay on narrativity (1981), that is, he opposes chronicle and ‘narrative proper’. I will use this obvious intertextual link to return to White’s text, where he emphasizes the importance of closure for the meaning of narrative. White is primarily concerned with historiography, explaining that readers tend to accept the illusion of objectivity produced by historical text. But in his view, ‘narrative in general, from the folktale to the novel, from the annals to the fully realized “history”, has to do with the topics of law, legality, legitimacy, or, more generally, authority’. (White 1981, 12) This authority behind the narrative inevitably shapes its interpretation of described events (events which have already been interpreted through various processes of emplotment before they come to be a part of the given story; if we are talking about real events and not invented ones in literary texts, then the very process of remembrance of historical events represents a form of selection/interpretation). White reinforces this statement later in the text, when he speaks about the ‘moral meaning’ of closure, and of the readers’ demand for closure. For, in every narrative, it is closure which gives the final frame for the included interpretation of events. (20) In White’s view, it is particularly important for history, which aims for objectivity, that is for a high degree of reliability.

I would like to relate White’s claims on closure with another narrative instance discussed in greater detail by Gerald Prince: the category of the unnarrated.⁵ My intention here is to claim that in any given narrative some kind of closure is always implied, both on the part of the narrator and the reader. In some cases, this closure is explicit, while in other cases it remains in the domain of the unnarrated. Nevertheless, unnarrated closure also has a significant impact on the possible readings of a given narrative.

What Prince calls unnarrated refers to ‘everything that according to a given narrative cannot be narrated or is not worth narrating – either because it transgresses a law (social, authorial, generic, formal), or because it defies the power of a particular narrator (or of any narrator), or because it falls below the so-called threshold of narratability (it is not sufficiently unusual or problematic: that is, interesting).’ (Prince 1992, 18). It is closely related with another closely related category that Prince is interested in, that of the disnarrated, which ‘covers all the events that do not happen though they could have and are nonetheless referred to (in a negative or hypothetical mode) by the narrative text.’ (Prince 1992, 30). Seen together, these two categories point to a wider frame of interpretation without openly challenging the format that the narrator visibly sets for his/her narrative. From this perspective, it becomes less important whether a narrative contains an explicate form of closure, for it is up to the reader (or a researcher in the role of either proper narratee, or a reader of the narrative) to look for implicit closure in the domain of unnarrated and/or disnarrated aspects of the text. At the same time, while performing this interpretative move, a narratee (and/or a reader) has to be extremely conscious of his/her own locatedness in a number of related stories which can affect the actual processes of interpretation. Thus a politics of location has to be strongly employed at this point, with self reflexive strategies on the side of the interpreter that avoid a misreading through the imposition of false closure.⁶ The same logic, of course, applies to the narrator, but it can be less obliging, since a narrator can have very different claims concerning his/her narrative (a piece of fantasy fiction will function differently than a statement before a jury in a criminal case, although both texts can be seen and interpreted as narratives).

In other words, in order to understand the process of interpretation that lies behind narration of a story, be it a literary or non-literary one, we have to take into account the narrated or non-narrated closure of that story, which will help us to understand in a more comprehensive way various aspects of the narrative agent’s involvement with the text. At the same time, it means that the narratee or reader, as interpreter, has to bring into the picture his/her own related narratives, with the aim of understanding if and how these affect the process of interpretation. In research, methodological frameworks also function as a form of narrative, since they ultimately rest on some kind of implied ‘story’ about the given discipline and the ways it produces knowledge. The self-reflexivity of a researcher has also to include personal views and the implied narratives on which these views are based. For example, if a researcher is in the position of a narratee listening to migrant/exile stories from the Balkans in 1990s, he/she has to be aware not only of the closure that narrator is including or assuming in the narrative, but also of his/her own understanding of the whole situation regarding that very same war.